


Tired Dads

by cozywilde, d20crunch



Series: Even More D&D [10]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Affection, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Come Shot, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Grinding, Insecurity, Kissing, M/M, Massage, Nipple Play, Romance, Sleepiness, Slow Sex, happy crying, soft dom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-10 19:14:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18414158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cozywilde/pseuds/cozywilde, https://archiveofourown.org/users/d20crunch/pseuds/d20crunch
Summary: Cyrus has had the longest of long days, but coming home to his boyfriend Quinn offers the kind of relief he has trouble believing he deserves.





	Tired Dads

**Author's Note:**

> Featuring [Cyrus](https://toyhou.se/3870644.cyrus), a big built bartender, and his boyfriend Quinn, the softest sweetest florist you will ever meet. They are both tired old dads with a lot of baggage from previous relationships, but they're in LOVE and they're HEALING together!!

Cyrus heaves open the door to the flower shop with a heavy sigh, letting it fall shut behind him and making sure the sign is flipped to “closed”. Once satisfied the shop is properly locked up for the night, he rubs fitfully at his eyes in an ineffective attempt to make himself feel less tired. _Gods_ what a long day. He’d had to throw out nearly a dozen big, pushy jackasses that were heckling his patrons, plus plan the lineup for a big show next week - not to mention trying to accommodate the demands of a score of musicians, some of whom “simply cannot perform if my guitar isn’t kept at precisely 68 degrees wrapped in a wolf pelt blanket.”

Cyrus leans against the heavy wood of the door, trying to let the day’s stress drop away. He really hated to worry Quinn, but soon accepts that even if he tried to hide it, sweet Quinn would still know he was distressed in a heartbeat. A little smile tugs at Cyrus’ lips - _he knows me too well_ \- before he follows the lights in the house to the den, finding Quinn wrapped in a blanket on the couch thoroughly engrossed in his book. Cyrus lets himself enjoy the sight a moment, taking in Quinn’s soft expression, the delicate way his glasses perch on his nose, how his eyes jump excitedly across the page.

A sweet affection warms Cyrus’ chest, and he can already feel his frustration slipping away with every second he stands leaning against the doorframe. He’s halfway across the room before Quinn notices his presence, startling slightly when he sees him so close. “Oh, sorry my love, I didn’t hear you come in,” Quinn says, automatically reaching up a hand for Cyrus to rest his cheek against as soon as he’s close enough. “This book is absolutely fascinating, it’s all about how to raise troubled teens. I have some wonderful tips for you for Saxxon -” Quinn is cut off by a sloppy kiss, just a firm press of Cyrus’ lips as he lowers his weight to the couch. It’s lazy even for Cyrus, and Quinn quickly gathers how absolutely _exhausted_ his boy must be.

“That sounds amazing sweetheart, really,” Cyrus mumbles, reaching over to carefully fold down the page of the book. Quinn holds it out of reach so Cyrus can’t damage it, marking his place with a bit of ribbon instead and setting it aside. “You’re so sweet, doing all this research for me and Saxx, thank you. I mean it. And I’ll listen to those tips sometime, promise. But right now... gods, I just need to be with you.” Quinn’s expression softens, thumb brushing against Cyrus’ cheek as he nods in understanding. Cyrus’ next kiss is more skillful than the first, but it still has that sloppiness and distracted feel to it that Quinn easily picks up on.

Knowing how much Cyrus needs closeness when he gets like this, Quinn slides his arms around him, getting a low, weary rumble in response as Cyrus wraps him in a tight hug of his own. It pushes the breath from Quinn’s lungs in a soft gasp, and he pulls back from Cyrus’ messy kiss to look at him with concern. “Darling, is everything alright?” he asks gently, searching his face for signs of trouble. Cyrus just looks so painfully _weary_ , only matched by the desperation in his eyes as he clutches Quinn close.

“Long day,” he says, a long sigh escaping him as he rests his forehead against Quinn’s. “Just being with you helps, sweetheart.” He presses another firm kiss to Quinn’s lips, trying to coax him into that lazy rhythm again, but Quinn carefully disengages, drawing a discontented whine from Cyrus’ throat that Quinn tries to soothe with gentle rubbing at his back.

“Love, I want to help, but I’m not sure if this is really what you need right now,” Quinn says. “You seem so tired, my darling, are you sure you don’t want to go upstairs to sleep?” Cyrus’ arms tighten around him, and Quinn hastens to add, “With me, of course.” Even as exhausted as he is, Cyrus’ lips quirk up at the corner, and before he can say anything Quinn laughs softly and emphasizes “to _sleep_ , Cyrus, as in nap. I don’t want you tiring yourself out even more, my love.” He gives Cyrus a quick, sweet kiss, trying to put all of his fondness and concern in the soft press of their lips.

Cyrus grumbles something unintelligible before trying to deepen the kiss, making another protesting noise when Quinn carefully defuses it to pull away. “All I want is for you to relax, my love,” Quinn murmurs, though he more than anyone knows asking Cyrus to relax is a battle that’s lost before it begins. Still, Quinn reaches up to massage the tension from Cyrus’ shoulders, frowning when the hard tension refuses to release under his touch. “Gods, sweetheart, doesn’t that hurt? Here, let’s go upstairs and lay you down and I’ll give you a nice massage. How does that sound?” Quinn tilts his head to meet Cyrus’ eyes, not being able to help a fond smile when he finds the frosty blue much softer than usual.

“That won’t help,” Cyrus grumbles quickly, shaking his head at Quinn’s quirked eyebrow. “I have to take care of you, I’ll feel better if you let me do something nice for you...” Cyrus’ hand drifts down to play with the hem of Quinn’s soft shirt before tracing along the waist of his pants, all while trying valiantly to give Quinn a sensual look.

Honestly, Quinn can’t help being charmed - Cyrus’ devotion to service even when he is clearly exhausted is _so_ sweet, but Quinn knows better than to let him hurt himself. Cyrus is very suggestible when he’s like this, his stern mulishness dissolved by exhaustion, but Quinn knows he has to play his cards well to get Cyrus to agree to being taken care of for once. “Alright, you can do something nice for me,” Quinn finally says, twining his fingers with Cyrus’ wandering hand so he’s not too distracted. “I’d really enjoy something soft and slow... and the couch simply will not do. We don’t have to sleep, but can we at least go up to bed, love?”

Cyrus is too tired to be suspicious of the suggestion, so he nods and pulls Quinn against his chest. For a moment Quinn is fearful Cyrus is too worn out to carry him, but hums happily when he’s easily hefted into Cyrus’ arms.

The walk upstairs is pretty quick, though Cyrus diligently stops in each room to extinguish candles before finally getting to their bedroom. Unsurprisingly, Cyrus immediately turns to the bed, carefully laying Quinn down before crawling up as well. “Whatcha want?” Cyrus mumbles, voice so slow and barely understandable Quinn can’t help a little amused smirk. His fingers card soothingly through Cyrus’ hair, earning a content rumble that could almost be called a purr. Cyrus shifts to lay on his side rather than directly over Quinn, snuggling into his shoulder with a deep sigh. Quinn happily notices that some of the tension leaves his shoulders as he rests an arm across Quinn’s chest to keep him close, but he’s still much too wound up to be comfortable.

Cyrus makes a completely unintelligible noise, but it has the same cadence as the earlier “Whatcha want?”, so Quinn says “Something slow and easy tonight, I think.” He presses a sweet kiss to Cyrus’ lips, relieved when he doesn’t immediately try to deepen it. “I’ll take the reins too, how does that sound?” Cyrus chuckles a little, breaking their kiss with a smirk.

“Got ‘soft dom’ Quinn tonight, do I?” he teases, smiling softly at the eager look in Quinn’s eyes. “Alright... what would you like to do to me, sweetheart?”

Quinn hums, idly rubbing at the hard muscles of Cyrus’ arm as he considers. Many of the things Cyrus would usually enjoy just seem too taxing - even something as simple as a blowjob becomes a painstaking art form when Cyrus is involved, and his poor big boy can barely keep his eyes open. He’d just end up frustrated with himself and feeling worse than ever, and Quinn simply can’t have that.

He tips Cyrus’ chin up to give him another soft, lingering kiss, quiet sounds of fond contentment passing between their lips. “I think I’d like to make love to you tonight, my darling,” Quinn murmurs once they’ve pulled back a fraction, still so close that Cyrus’ icy blue eyes are all Quinn sees. They widen a bit in surprise, and Quinn brings a hand up to stroke Cyrus’ cheek. “It would make me so happy, my love. I always feel so honored when you trust me with something so special... though of course, if you’d rather not tonight that is more than all right.”

Quinn presses a gentle kiss to Cyrus’ cheek, giving him time for his sleepy mind to decide. There’s already a warm flush blossoming over his cheekbones even as his expression remains largely unchanged, even that much of a reaction sending affectionate warmth through Quinn. His stubborn, handsome boy is so cute, even if Quinn wishes sometimes that he’d let himself be more open. These little glimpses only become all the more precious, reminding Quinn how very rare they used to be, and how much more common they’ve become.

Realizing he’s let the comfortable silence stretch out for longer than he meant to, Quinn prompts “Love?” with a little squeeze at his arm. “You know I need to hear you, my dear. Have to be sure we’re both on the same page.” He smiles sweetly, combing his fingers through Cyrus’ hair.

Cyrus leans into Quinn’s touch, still struggling to process what’s being asked of him. His instinctive response is a flat-out “no”, but just looking into Quinn’s warm eyes reassures him. The handful or so of times before that Quinn made love to him were absolutely exhilarating, and he had no reason to be nervous. “You sure?” Cyrus asks, pressing light kisses down Quinn’s neck until he shivers under the feathery-light touch. “I don’t mind taking care of you, it’s my favorite…”

Quinn smiles and assures him, “Really sweetheart, it would make me so happy to do this for you,” fingers trailing down to slip under the hem of Cyrus’ shirt.

Cyrus nods, adding his verbal response of “yes, please Quinn” when prompted again. Quinn can see the tension practically melt away, Cyrus so relieved to be able to just relax for once and enjoy being taken care of. Quinn has doubts he’ll allow himself to be the one serviced for very long, no doubt begging to take care of Quinn instead in a few minutes, but he’ll take what he can get. It feels _so good_ to just let go, but Cyrus can’t help the clawing feeling in his chest that he’s not doing enough for his sweet Quinn if he just lays there and takes the pleasure.

“Quinn, wait,” Cyrus mumbles, tired muscles making it hard for him to gently pause Quinn’s hands roving under his shirt. Quinn immediately stills, though, always acutely aware of any requests to stop. He meets Cyrus’ eyes, concerned he had brushed a sore spot or misjudged Cyrus’ desire for intimacy, but is relieved when he finds a soft, smoldering lust in them. “I just... fuck, you’re sure you don’t want something from me first?” His gaze is almost pleading, squeezing Quinn tighter against his side. He hadn’t done anything tonight to deserve Quinn’s ministrations, and it pains him to take something without giving first. Quinn can see the turmoil in his eyes clear as day, so he takes a moment from the teasing touches over Cyrus’ chest to hold his face gently in his hands, dropping a careful kiss on his forehead.

“My love,” Quinn sighs. “You’ve given me so many wonderful things, absolutely selflessly, and I want to do the same. I love you.” He makes sure to capture Cyrus’ gaze for the last few words, giving them more impact in the hopes Cyrus would believe it without question.

It seems to work, as in the next moment Cyrus’ icy blue eyes get a bit glassy with tears. “Quinn...” Cyrus starts, though his voice breaks so he quickly clears his throat. “Quinn I... I love you too. So much. It means everything that you... want to take care of me when I’m not at my best. Thank you, really.” Cyrus leans forward for a tender kiss, letting it linger sweetly even as he adds, “I’ll try to be good, but you know me - built for service. There will be grumbling but that’s part of the process.” They exchange knowing smiles, both of them quite aware of Cyrus’ insatiable need to mutter grumpily about just about everything.

Satisfied now that Cyrus truly does want this, Quinn slides his hands back under Cyrus’ shirt, skimming over warm skin and tense muscles. As his hands move up Cyrus’ chest he slowly pushes the shirt up with them, baring the familiar lines of dark tattoos and old, pale scars.

“So gorgeous,” Quinn sighs, leaning down to press another kiss to Cyrus’ lips, then trailing down his neck. “Roll onto your back for me,” Quinn adds, nudging gently at Cyrus’ shoulder until he moves with a low groan. Arm still wrapped around Quinn and not willing to relinquish his hold until Quinn makes him, Cyrus rolls Quinn right along with him, ending up with him sprawled breathlessly over his chest. Warm amusement lights his eyes as he gives Quinn another squeeze, filling Quinn’s chest with a heady warmth to match. “Very cute, love,” Quinn says, shifting to straddle Cyrus’ chest more comfortably. That makes the warmth in Cyrus’ eyes shift to a more intense heat, letting his hands slide down to rub at Quinn’s hips.

Quinn lets himself enjoy the firm touch for a moment, but then twines his fingers with Cyrus’ and brings their joined hands to his lips to press gentle kisses to his fingers. “That feels wonderful, my love, but what I’d like even more right now is for you to relax,” he says, voice soft but firm. He relinquishes Cyrus’ hands so he can draw Cyrus’ shirt up his chest again, urging his arms up so he can pull it over his head. Cyrus grumbles all the while but allows it, not even his tiredness keeping him from flexing a little under the pretense of getting comfortable once Quinn has set his shirt aside. Quinn smiles fondly down at him, shifting farther up Cyrus’ chest so he can knead at his shoulders. “You know I love these big strong muscles of yours, darling, but not when they’re so terribly tense,” he says, frowning as his fingers dig into hard, knotted muscle.

“‘S not that bad,” Cyrus grunts, only to groan as Quinn’s hands find a particularly tense spot, pressing in hard until the muscle releases its tension. The relief that crosses Cyrus’ face is hard to notice unless you’re looking as hard as Quinn is, and he smiles again at seeing it, one hand coming up to cradle Cyrus’ face.

“That makes me so happy, seeing you getting even a little bit more comfortable.” He ducks his head to press a kiss to Cyrus’ forehead, getting a quiet but unmistakably affectionate mumble in return as he returns to his diligent work. Quinn croons soft praise with each muscle that he slowly massages the tension from, finally sitting back with a satisfied sigh - though he keeps his hands resting on Cyrus’ chest, not wanting to lose the contact. “That’s much better,” he says, rubbing over Cyrus’ pectorals, not massaging now - just appreciating. “Now I can really enjoy this.”

He leans down, giving Cyrus a slow, deep kiss, hands still sliding over his chest. After long moments he pulls back, giving Cyrus one more sweet peck at his noise of protest before he presses kisses down his neck, over his collarbones. He makes a low, satisfied sound when he reaches Cyrus’ nipples, hand sliding over to play with one while he licks over the other. It’s easy to feel Cyrus’ breath picking up laid over his chest like this, and Quinn feels an eager heat pooling in his own belly at the subtle signs of Cyrus’ arousal. “Gods, you’re so sexy,” he murmurs against his skin, shifting just slightly to press his hardening dick against Cyrus’ belly. “I love getting to touch you like this.”

“Gods, _Quinn_ ,” Cyrus breathes, instinctively wanting to reach down and massage his sweet half-elf too, but his thoroughly relaxed muscles simply won’t respond. Liquid heat has made his arms so heavy with lassitude he can barely move, just letting out soft sounds of pleasure as Quinn’s gentle touch teases along his skin. “Feels so good sweetheart, you’re perfect...” The little happy noise Quinn makes in response is so fuckin’ _cute_ , and Cyrus is just about to tell him as much when he leans up for another kiss, snatching his breath away.

Quinn’s deft fingers are relentless, still teasing over Cyrus’ nipple even as he reflexively starts to squirm and his kisses turn more sloppy. Quinn shifts his body perfectly in time with the little jerks of Cyrus’ hips, staying pressed close to ride out every little shudder. “Quinn,” Cyrus gasps, too low to be a whimper but certainly close. Quinn gives him another slow, lingering kiss before laving wet marks down his chest again. Looking up to meet Cyrus’ eyes, he can’t help a soft smile - Cyrus was just so _open_ , every inch of him radiating affection; it was hard to believe just a few months ago he was an emotionless icicle. He had so much love to give, and Quinn was so happy to have helped him grow.

“Yes, my love?” Quinn says belatedly, letting his thumbs flick over the wet skin of Cyrus’ nipples. He shivers with the pleasure, eyes falling closed a moment to regain himself before meeting Quinn’s eyes again.

“You’re making me feel... fuck, it feels so _good_ to have you like this. Remind me to have you looking down on me more often.” They exchange amused smiles, Quinn quite aware of Cyrus’ delight in being dominated in one way or another. “Got me so relaxed, you could do just about anything you want to me... what would you like, sweetheart? I relaxed pretty good just like you wanted, so what’s next?”

Quinn can’t help a little sigh, not at all surprised Cyrus’s instinctive need to dote on him was firing up again. What would it take for him to just _let go_ and let Quinn run the show? “Cyrus, please, I love you but I really need you to just relax, okay?” Quinn says firmly, though he’s careful to keep his voice soothing. Cyrus was just going to be stressed if he tried to please Quinn while he’s so exhausted. “I want nothing more right now than to make love to you, and we’re going to do it my way. Which, of course, means I’m the boss and you’ll do what I say, correct?”

Quinn’s firm tone makes Cyrus shiver, absolutely thriving on being told what to do. “Yes, of _course_ love, I’ll do anything,” Cyrus murmurs, letting his muscles fall slack again in preparation for whatever Quinn might ask him to do. “You take such good care of me, I’m so fuckin’ lucky I found you...” Quinn’s firm look softens slightly, unable to keep up his commanding presence when his tired boy is being so _sweet_.

“I feel so incredibly lucky too, my love,” Quinn says, pressing another sweet kiss to Cyrus’ lips. He just can’t resist lingering for a minute when Cyrus is saying such lovely things to him, and he’s still agreeably pliant for the moment, letting Quinn set the pace. He pulls back with a contented sigh, smiling fondly at Cyrus. “You’re so good to me.”

Cyrus’ adorably soft expression shifts to a more familiar frown as Quinn slips off of his chest, a discontented rumble starting up. “Shh, honey, I’ll be right back,” Quinn says, smiling and shaking his head at Cyrus’ huff of displeasure. _So impatient when he’s the one waiting…_ He quiets when Quinn scoops up a familiar little bottle and settles back on his chest, setting the lube aside for now. “I think we’d both prefer an interruption now rather than later,” he says primly, Cyrus giving a begrudging nod. “Now, where were we… oh right, you were doing anything I said.”

Cyrus shivers at the note of command that’s entered Quinn’s voice again, nodding firmly in response. “Anything, Quinn...” he murmurs.

“Good,” Quinn says, eager heat in his eyes at Cyrus’ clear delight in being ordered around. “Lay nice and still for me, love.” He slides down between Cyrus’ legs, nudging them a little further apart so there’s room for him there. The hard line of Cyrus’ dick is obvious through his pants, but Quinn doesn’t touch it yet, just letting his fingers play over the hem of his pants. The muscles of his belly twitch under the light touch, Quinn humming happily both at how reactive Cyrus is and how he stays obediently still. “It’s such a treat for me to enjoy you like this, my love,” he murmurs, then leans down to press a gentle kiss to Cyrus’ dick through his pants. He gives a low groan, a light tremble starting in his muscles as Quinn continues his firm kisses, his lips warm even through the fabric.

Finally Quinn has mercy on him and opens his pants, giving him a few quick strokes with one hand while the other tugs his pants down far enough to work with. Cyrus’ breath comes even quicker as Quinn bends down over his dick, just letting his hot breath puff over the head for a moment, the strokes of his hand slowing, long and languorous. “Yes, feels good, doesn’t it love?” Quinn asks, unable to take his eyes off the rapture and desperation on Cyrus’ face. “Just relax and enjoy this.” Before Cyrus has even the slightest chance to respond, Quinn fits his lips around the head of his dick, humming delightedly as his tongue flicks over the tip.

Cyrus shivers with a low moan, hips jumping slightly before he forces himself to still. It had been so long since he was the one being taken care of, and each firm suck and flick of Quinn’s tongue is exhilarating in its novelty. His eyes fall closed a moment but he quickly trains them on Quinn again, flushing when he sees the genuine enjoyment in his expression. “Feels - ah fuck, feels wonderful Quinn,” Cyrus gasps, one hand squeezing tight in the sheets as the other drifts down to brush against Quinn’s cheek. The hand in the sheets is clenched hard but his touch over Quinn’s skin is impossibly gentle, delicately brushing his hair behind his little elfy ear and out of his face. Quinn meets his eyes again, and the eager affection fills Cyrus’ chest with an almost suffocating warmth.

Conscious of how much Quinn appreciates him voicing feelings as soon as he has them, Cyrus breathes a quiet “You’re beautiful… you mean everything to me” as he cradles Quinn’s jaw carefully in his hand. Relieved that Quinn is honestly enjoying himself, the clawing anxiety seeps easily from Cyrus’ muscles, leaving him even more relaxed than after the massage.

As a reward for Cyrus’ very sweet and only slightly pleasure-delirious comment, Quinn shifts just slightly to straddle his leg, grinding slow against him. Cyrus makes a soft whimper at that, riveted by the feeling of damp cloth grazing his skin. “Fuck, Quinn, you’re so hard let me -” Cyrus starts before biting his lip, remembering he was ordered to be still and let Quinn run the show. “Babe I... shit, everything feels so good, I need _more_ …” His muscles tremble with impossible restraint, squirming only slightly as Quinn draws it out. For a man who always takes his damn time in bed, he was sure impatient when he was on the receiving end.

Loving how each slow stroke of his tongue and lips makes Cyrus squirm, so determined to be good even as hot pleasure rushes over him, Quinn gives a few more long sucks before he finally pulls back to answer. One hand still stroking Cyrus’ dick, Quinn asks, “More, love? More of what, exactly?” He ducks his head to lick up the precome beading at the tip of Cyrus’ dick, savoring his shuddering groan.

“Whatever you want to give me,” Cyrus responds in a rush, toes curling with pleasure as Quinn licks up the length of his dick, teasingly slow.

“Mmm, good answer, my darling,” Quinn murmurs. He tugs Cyrus’ pants the rest of the way off and tosses them off of the bed, his carelessness with the clothing a testament to how far gone he himself is, even as he maintains an impressively controlled expression. Settling back into his spot between Cyrus’ legs, he presses soft kisses to his inner thighs. “A little wider for me, love,” he says, hands following the gentle press of his lips to nudge Cyrus where he needs him. He tenses almost imperceptibly at being in a more vulnerable position, but Quinn has no trouble noticing. “All right, my love?” Quinn asks, heat in his eyes momentarily replaced with soft concern.

Cyrus’ nod is quick and firm enough to reassure Quinn, and he adds a grunted “it’s fine. Just not used to this.” That same fond warmth enters his eyes, and he continues, “I know I’m safe with you.”

Quinn’s chest aches with the feelings Cyrus’ soft words inspire, and he slides up his chest again to kiss him, hand coming up to cradle his face. “Gods, I love you so much,” Quinn says when he has to pull back to breathe. He grinds down against Cyrus again, moaning along with him as their hot lengths press against each other, only the thin fabric of Quinn’s pants between them. “Quinn, babe, _fuck_ … please,” Cyrus gasps, hands clenched hard in the sheets again. Quinn groans at the clear desperation in his voice and quickly snatches up the the lube, sliding down between Cyrus’ legs as he slicks up his fingers.

He meets Cyrus’ eyes as he gently slides his lubed fingers between his cheeks, rubbing over his perineum and circling his hole. “Good, my love?” he asks, keeping steady eye contact as he kisses his inner thigh, one finger just barely nudging at his entrance. Cyrus nods, breath coming quickly and a deep flush in his cheeks. Quinn nods back and carefully starts to ease his finger in, watching intently for any signs of pain as he starts a slow rock in and out.

Cyrus lets out a long, shaky breath as he fights to keep himself from squirming too much, but Quinn easily picks up on his uneasiness even as he tries to hide it. “Still okay?” Quinn murmurs, breath ghosting over the sensitive skin of Cyrus’ thigh.

Cyrus can’t help a little shiver before nodding, adding his verbal “I’m okay” when Quinn looks unsure. He really _is_ okay, but his body seems intent on tensing up anyway. “Just… keep looking at me, saying that cute shit in your sweet voice,” Cyrus mumbles, shuddering again when Quinn’s finger sinks deeper and brushes a spot that makes a warm thrill shoot up Cyrus’ spine. “And touch _there_ , fuck, forgot how good that feels.”

Quinn smiles fondly, promising to say every bit of “cute shit” that comes to mind - anything to get his “big strong boy to relax”. He murmurs praises for Cyrus’ muscles, his soft smile, his warmth, the little shivers as Quinn’s finger circles that spot that made him whine. Cyrus’ hand clenches tighter in the sheet, precome dribbling near-constantly down his dick as his hips start to buck just slightly in search of more friction.

“Fuck, Quinn, more,” Cyrus breathes, reaching down to anchor himself with a hand tangled in Quinn’s hair. “You’re dragging me to the edge, love, I can’t take much more of the teasing…”

Quinn chuckles, playfully pointing out “you sure don’t mind teasing _me_ for hours on end,” but mercifully starts to press in a second slick finger. It goes easier than the first, Cyrus’ body starting to fall into the old rhythm, but Quinn still presses reassuring kisses over the dip of his hip to soothe any lingering tension.

Cyrus seems to be quickly growing impatient about not being able to hold his Quinn as close as he’d like, muttering “as soon as you f- er, make love to me, I want you up here kissing me so I can get my arms around you again.”

Quinn chuckles quietly, scissoring his fingers until Cyrus’ toes curl in eager anticipation. Quinn considers himself a patient man, but even he is rapidly devolving under the combined pleasure of Cyrus’ besotted dirty talk and the tight heat around his fingers. He carefully lines up a third, flicking his tongue up the underside of Cyrus’ dick as it sinks in. The hand in Quinn’s hair squeezes tighter, but Cyrus manages to hold impressively still as Quinn slowly works him over.

“Shit, Quinn,” Cyrus whines eventually, and it really is a whine this time - _Gods, it’s been a while since I’ve heard him this desperate_. “Please love, I trust you and I know you’ll keep me safe, but I need you _now_ … I just can’t wait any longer.”

“Gods, neither can I, love,” Quinn says, pressing his fingers in deep to rub over that spot again, groaning sympathetically as Cyrus gasps and his muscles strain as he tries not to squirm. With his free hand Quinn rubs over his own dick through his pants, breaths coming quick and shaky at even that much stimulation after so long without it.

Noticing, Cyrus groans “Q _uinn_ ” in an absolutely wrecked voice, making him shudder, fingers stalling out of their deliberate rhythm.

“Yes, love, all right,” Quinn says, fumbling in his excitement to open his pants. “Just a moment, my darling, you won’t have to wait much longer -” Tugging his pants down just enough to free his dick, Quinn carefully draws his fingers out, soothing Cyrus’ low whine with soft words and messy kisses against his thigh.

It only takes a moment to slick himself, and then he shifts to rest against Cyrus’ chest, lining himself up but careful not to push in yet. “Ready, my love?” he asks, his own voice breathy with his excitement. He brings his free hand up to cradle Cyrus’ face again, loving how Cyrus immediately leans into the touch.

“Yes, _yes_ ,” he pleads, arms coming up to tug Quinn more firmly against himself. “Make love to me, Quinn…” With a low groan Quinn pushes forward, easing into tight heat with careful little rolls of his hips.

“Gods Cyrus, that’s so good, you’re doing so well,” he gasps, keeping up the soft stream of praise as Cyrus’ brow knits, trying his best to relax for him. Quinn stills as Cyrus fights to speak through panting breaths, concern overtaking his lust. “Still okay, my love?” he murmurs.

Cyrus is quick to nod, finally managing a low “Yeah… just. Fuck, it’s a lot.” Hazy blue eyes meet Quinn’s, not pained, but clearly overwhelmed. “Kiss me?”

Quinn can’t resist his soft expression or the pleading note in his voice, leaning up to give a slow, deep kiss, hand sliding up to comb soothingly through Cyrus’ hair. Cyrus returns the kiss with desperate, sloppy abandon, relaxing enough after a few moments for Quinn to sink in a little deeper, making them both gasp. Quinn resumes his careful thrusts, only breaking their kiss when they absolutely need to catch their breath, and finally his hips meet Cyrus’, both of them groaning at the feeling. “That’s perfect, you’re so strong for me, love,” Quinn says. “I love this. I love _you_.”

“I- ah fuck,” Cyrus groans, even just a slight shift of position making his muscles tense warily. Quinn opens his mouth to say something, concern written all over his flushed face, but Cyrus is quick to quiet him with a messy kiss. “I love you too, Quinn,” Cyrus finishes, trying to pour his affection and reassurance into the kiss since his body clearly did not get the memo that Quinn is _safe_.

It takes a couple minutes of sweet murmured praises and gentle fingers through Cyrus’ hair for him to relax again, but when he does he even manages a soft little smile - just for Quinn. “That’s perfect sweetheart, promise I’m okay… just needed a minute,” Cyrus murmurs, releasing one arm from its tight hold around Quinn’s chest to be able to reach up and brush his sweaty hair behind his ear. “You know me, I need a hundred hours just to do _anything_.”

Quinn laughs softly, both in relief that Cyrus was starting to really feel at ease again and the fact that sleeping with Cyrus commonly took an entire afternoon and evening. _Dead turtles could get things done faster than him…_ “Alright dear, I’ll keep things slow, just like you love,” Quinn teases, pulling back just slightly before pressing in deep again. Cyrus’ toes curl as his breath leaves him sharply, instinctively hitching his knees over Quinn’s hips to pull him close. It had been a damn long time since he’d been in this position, and the delightful sensations were at the same time tantalizingly novel and familiar. Of course, being with Quinn made every touch ten times more exciting.

“You can... go a bit faster, if you’d like,” Cyrus says breathily, an arm curling around Quinn’s shoulder to pull him even closer. He’s so warm it’s hard to keep a good grip, hands slipping over the sweaty material of Quinn’s shirt as he falls into a quicker but still very deliberate pace. The eager heat in Cyrus’ belly aches for something more intense, something more _satisfying_ , but Cyrus himself wants nothing more than for this sweet, delicious rhythm to drag on forever. _What I wouldn’t give for Quinn to hold me like this, look at me like that, for the rest of my life,_ Cyrus thinks wistfully, tipping his head up to coax Quinn into another hot kiss. _He’s perfect…_

The intense affection in Cyrus’ kiss makes Quinn’s breath hitch, grinding in deep, so desperate to be as close to Cyrus as he can possibly be. Even this deliberate rhythm has him closer to the edge than he’d like, shuddering with each of Cyrus’ low moans and gasps. “Gods love, you’re so amazing, so perfect for me,” he says between hot kisses, hand in Cyrus’ hair stroking mindlessly as he keeps up his steady thrusts as best he can, needing to drive Cyrus’ ecstasy as high as his more than anything else. Judging from the precome that slicks both their bellies where they’re pressed close together he’s doing just fine, and he arches his back to rub harder against Cyrus’ dick with every rock of his hips, savoring the way Cyrus whines his name. “What is it, my love?” Quinn asks, breathless himself as he holds onto the last threads of his control, hips starting to jerk out of rhythm. “Anything - anything you want, it’s yours.”

Cyrus moans wordlessly and tugs Quinn down for another kiss, a sloppy slide of lips as they both gasp for breath. Cyrus can’t seem to stop the desperate twitches of his hips up into Quinn’s thrusts, and by now Quinn’s in no state to protest such a thing. “Just you,” Cyrus finally manages, hazy blue eyes locked on Quinn’s. “All I want, all I need - fuck, love you so much -” Cyrus’ body strains as he barely manages to hold back his orgasm, but such sweet words are far too much for Quinn.

Sudden inspiration overcomes his instinct to press in deep, and with barely a moment to spare he pulls out and lets his come splatter over Cyrus’ chest, gasping along with Cyrus as hot drops hit his skin. He flops bonelessly on Cyrus’ chest when he’s spent, shivering as the mess smears between them. “Come for me, love, show me how good it feels,” Quinn urges, giving a lazy, shuddering grind against Cyrus’ dick, still terribly sensitive himself but needing to see Cyrus come undone.

Cyrus’ eyes go wide, surprised but absolutely delighted to have Quinn paint his skin with come. It’s at the same time intensely sexy and so sweet - the fact Quinn made the conscious decision to forego the usual method and instead do something he knew Cyrus preferred… it made his very heart ache.

“Q-Quinn,” Cyrus whimpers, voice positively wrecked as he struggles to hold out just a little longer. He wants this moment to draw out for far longer, but the warm pleasure in Quinn’s eyes is just too much. Cyrus slides his hand down Quinn’s sweaty shirt until he reaches the hem of his pants, finally slipping under the fabric to palm his ass. Quinn shivers a little, so sensitive and saturated with bliss, and it only takes a couple more moments of Cyrus guiding him into a quick, needy grind against his dick for him to finally spill between them. Cyrus’ breath comes raggedly, giving Quinn’s ass a parting squeeze before lightly trailing his fingers up his spine.

Despite the exhaustion creeping up in his muscles, Quinn grinds carefully against him, letting Cyrus ride out his high with soft gasps and the occasional tug in Quinn’s hair. After long moments, Cyrus starts to succumb to the tiredness he’d been fighting all night. Quinn feels the slow hand combing through his hair start to falter, and can’t help a soft smile at Cyrus’ sleepily mumbled, “lemme get you cleaned up, sweetheart.” Quinn was so absorbed in the sweet afterglow he wasn’t even thinking about how much he dislikes being so messy, but after these long minutes it was starting to be uncomfortable.

“I told you I have the reins tonight, my love,” Quinn reminds him patiently, both loving and hating the slick sounds between them as he shifts to sit up. Surprisingly agile despite his sleepiness, Cyrus’ arms spring up to keep Quinn from escaping, pulling him back down on his chest with a huff of breath. Quinn starts to gently protest - “Cyrus, I have to change into my pajamas and get us both cleaned up” - but pauses when he notices Cyrus’ shoulders shaking just slightly.

“Just, just a minute more,” Cyrus whispers, afraid his voice will break if he tries to talk. “I’m sorry, I’m still getting used to this and it’s a lot for me.” Cyrus buries his face in Quinn’s shoulder, trying to wipe away any escaped tears and even out his hitched breathing.

Quinn presses reassuring kisses to Cyrus’ cheek, telling him to “take all the time you need, I won’t go anywhere”. Cyrus’ tight hold loosens slightly, grateful for the promise of staying close.

“Sorry about this,” Cyrus says eventually, once his breath starts to even out. “Still not used to... feeling so much being with someone. I look at you and suddenly my whole chest is warm and fuzzy, and I don’t have a fuckin’ clue how to deal with it.” Quinn feels a tired smile against his shoulder. “So, we get _this_. Me just being…” Cyrus knows Quinn will protest the words he wants to use - _pathetic, weak, a coward_. “...being overwhelmed. Thanks for being patient with me, love.”

Quinn’s heart melts with the intensity of his affection, all at once wanting Cyrus’ tears to stop and wholly delighted that he can show this side of himself to Quinn. “I’m so glad to be with you here my darling, overwhelmed or not,” Quinn murmurs, pressing kisses over every bit of Cyrus’ face he can reach.

Cyrus huffs a tired little laugh at his enthusiasm, giving him an affectionate squeeze that feels much nicer than his desperate grip of before. “Thank you for sharing this with me, love,” Quinn says, once Cyrus’ breathing has evened out under his diligent kisses. “I know it’s difficult for you to let yourself feel these things, but I’m so grateful to be able to know all of you. I love you - _every_ part of you - so very much.” Quinn’s breath hitches, Cyrus quickly pulling back to see tears welling in his eyes as well.

With a noise of quiet dismay Cyrus gives Quinn a messy, exhausted kiss that tastes distinctly salty with both of their tears, conveying every bit of love he can manage. When they finally break apart, Quinn gives a shaky smile. “We’re both a little overwhelmed, I suppose,” he says, with a soft chuckle. He rests his forehead against Cyrus’ for a moment, steadying them both with the closeness, then sighs. “Really should get cleaned up, though.” At Cyrus’ disapproving rumble, he smiles. “More cuddling after, love, believe me - I want nothing more,” he says, with a quick kiss to the tip of Cyrus’ nose.

Soft nudges at the arms looped around his chest eventually get Cyrus to release him with another grumbly noise, Quinn quickly making his way to the bathroom to wet a couple of towels. He wipes himself down, stripping off his soiled clothing and hesitating before he tosses it into the laundry. He flushes as he enters the bedroom again, unable to pretend Cyrus’ eyes don’t linger on his bare skin as he crosses the room to the drawers that hold his pajamas.

“It’s all right,” Quinn says softly, as Cyrus quickly focuses on the ceiling instead. “You can - you can look.” He’s still quick to pull on his pajamas, unable to look back at the bed to see if Cyrus is watching until he’s covered once again.

Blush still hot in his cheeks, Quinn walks over and perches on the edge of the bed, leaning over Cyrus to start wiping at the mess of come on his chest. “You’re gorgeous, love,” Cyrus says quietly, and Quinn flushes deeper, focusing hard on his cleaning and avoiding Cyrus’ eyes.

“All done,” he says brightly once he’s finished, tossing the dirty washcloth towards the hamper and curling up on Cyrus’ chest again. Cyrus is quick to loop an arm over him, of course, but the other tips Quinn’s chin up to meet his eyes.

“You really are, you know?” Cyrus says, and Quinn simply can’t look away from the sweet sincerity in Cyrus’ eyes.

“Thank you,” he says softly, leaning up to give him a soft, lingering kiss. He tucks his face into Cyrus’ shoulder afterwards, nuzzling sweetly against his warm skin. “Goodnight, my love,” Quinn murmurs, and Cyrus’ almost incomprehensibly sleepy “love you” in response is the last he hears as he drifts to sleep.


End file.
